A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words
by Tortured Hylian Soul
Summary: Cloud comes across an old photograph... Oneshot. CloudXAerith.


" 'Cloud, go through all of the junk laying around in your basement!' she said. 'There are enough boxes in there to shelter all of Edge!' she said," Cloud mimicked as he carried a heavy stack of cardboard boxes into his living room before placing them down in front of his mantel.

Just a few hours ago, Tifa had "asked" him to clean out his basement. Being the polite guy that he was, he began without protest.

That, and the fact that she had promised to drop kick him over the walls of Edge if he didn't.

The young man wiped droplets of sweat from his brow. If he had counted correctly, this had been the last group of boxes to carry in. Cloud looked around the once spacious room, and sighed before rubbing his temples in agitation.

There were so many boxes surrounding him, that if arranged correctly, he could start his own line of cardboard furniture. "Looks like Tifa was right," he murmured as he opened up box one of two thousand. The second the lids of the box were separated, a wave of scents that smelled like a cross between raw sewage and a beached whale that had been "beached" too long hit his nostrils.

"Oh! Sweet spirits of the Lifestream!" he exclaimed as he covered his nose with a hand and turned his head away. It felt as if the stench was penetrating his very soul.

* * *

A small smile formed on her lips as she watched him from a corner of the room, sitting on a small wooden chair. The smile formed into a laugh, a laugh she knew he could not hear…

* * *

_What in the name of Midgar could possibly make such a vomit-inducing stench? _Cloud questioned in his mind as he prepared to look into the box, a hand still clamped over his nose. What he saw took him completely by surprise: 

Torn clothing that had _clearly _been unwashed or even _seen _by human eyes for quite a while. It was definitely going into the dumpster outside. "Not even the homeless would want this!" he murmured as he carried the box into the kitchen, starting a "trash pile".

Cloud made his way through the maze of packages, and randomly picked box number two. He opened the box, preparing himself for a grotesque scene or a rancid scent. But he did not find that. In fact, it was quite the opposite…

The box was filled with color and smelled like flowers.

He lifted a piece of semi-transparent blue plastic from the neatly stacked piles, and noticed that something was in it: a pink flower.

Cloud suddenly remembered where he had gotten this: he had bought it from Aerith when he had first met her in Midgar.

'_This is called an "Eternal Sunset."' _she had said. '_As long as you keep it in water, it will live for years! Really!'_ Her smile had been forged into his mind since that day. How long had it been since she… joined the Lifestream? Two years, or was it three? He was sure it had been three.

The flower hadn't even changed hue in its water-filled plastic case. Cloud smiled.

A sparkle of light below him caught his eye, causing him to gently place the case on the floor. It was an overturned picture frame with brass flowers attached to it. A picture was still held in it.

Curious, Cloud lifted the frame out of the box, but the picture fell to the floor facedown before he could see it. He turned it over.

It was a black-and-white photograph of him and Aerith. It looked as if the flower girl was sitting on something, for she was higher up than Cloud in the picture. One of her fingers was on each side of his mouth, and hooked inside his mouth, pulling his mouth up into a smile. Her eyes were closed and her lips were separated in a laugh. Cloud was looking up at her.

Cloud-of-the-present smiled and emitted a chuckle. He remembered when the photo was taken.

"_Come on Cloud!" she said, gently tugging him by the arm. "Please, just one picture?"_

That picture was taken a few weeks after he had bought the flower. Had it really been in this box that long? How had he ever even _thought_ of putting these in his basement? Had her death really hurt him badly enough to actually hide his memories of her?

"Memories should never be locked up," he said to himself, copying one of Aerith's famous quotes. He gently placed the photograph back into the frame, dusting it off, simultaneously grasping the cased flower.

Cloud gingerly made his way to the far end of the room, careful not to break either of the fragile objects.

* * *

She continually watched him from the chair she was perched on, still unnoticed by the blonde. "Good job, Cloud." The smile never left her lips.

* * *

He placed the objects on his mantel, stepping back to stare at them for a few seconds. He smiled, and bowed his head slightly. "I'm sorry about that…" he said to no one in particular. "… I love you, Aerith…" 

"I love you too, Cloud…" a voice said from what sounded like the corner of the room. Surprised, Cloud turned.

Nothing but a lone wooden chair stood there, rocking slightly.

The young man suddenly felt a gust of air blow past him, towards the mantel. Turning again, he noticed a flash of movement.

Color was spreading throughout the photograph…

Again, he felt a gust of air, and felt something pressed into his palm. Looking around curiously, and finding nothing, Cloud slowly brought the item in his palm to his face.

It was a long, pink ribbon...

"There are quite a lot of boxes left, Cloud," the amused voice said again. It sounded so familiar and soothing. "You better get to work!"The blonde continually looked towards the direction that the voice came from, then at the ribbon.

"I'm not alone," he said quietly.

"Cloud!" Tifa's voice shouted from outside. "Those boxes better be organized!" The blonde looked around the room, seeing almost nothing but unopened boxes.

"Crap..."


End file.
